motor oil and flowers

What do you do if, after so long, she's done?
We created something which feeds on itself, we feed it, and so it consumes us.
I've been through Dark Days before.
It's the kids that pay.
Maybe we can starve this thing. We're gonna try.

I've been through some weird shit in my life. This is just another in the pile... but probably the weirdest and the shittiest.

It's like a Dali, done in motor oil.

I am life's prison raped bunghole.

This is one of those times when I really don't have any good ideas about how to navigate the waters... which is unsual. I have ideas, but none are sticking out as more desirable. Some old familar forces, some new ones - some minor, some major. We prioritize them, but differently.

Motor oil and rose petals.

There's so many beauties in the world. Some things make my eyes glass, my mind bzzzzzz... I reach and am usually denied.

Other things do that... music does a lot. Some poetry. Beautiful women. Being in the zone. Basking in the radiance of a woman after her orgasm. Holding a sleeping child. A&W root beer over Blue Bell Vanilla Bean ice cream.

I heard this song fat black cock on the radio the other day - I wanted to pull over in my car (it was 11:00 at night) and just close my eyes and float away in a musicgasm forever. I didn't... I just drove, smiling, dancing in my seat, moving my head. That's one of those moments of almost pure beauty I will remember for a long long time.

Rose petals.

Fuck you, motor oil.

shout out

Where to begin?
As promised, a shout out to Jenn. we had a joyous frolic this spring break and are now dating. A lovely setup that relieves us from the treachery of lesbian cliques at our respective universities.

Also, my noteriety, what of it I have, is about to become much more fancifully embroidered. It seems that a certain taping of the Jerry Springer Show is airing on pay-per-view that involves a mostly-naked me doing jumping jacks and toe touches on stage with pal Dave, a stripper and a bunch of unattractive men. I hear also that the backstage chatter, much of which involved my fruitless search for my clothes, is included in the special.

I have mixed feelings about the incident. I signed a release in full sanity and sobreity, and fully knowing that I have no stopping point when it comes to unbridled public silliness of the quasi-sexual variety. I am excited, ya know, because I'm an exhibitionist of sorts. But a little bitty part of my psyche clings to the pop wisdom that appearing naked on television can damage one's career, etc. I guess I'll just see where shit settles, cause ain't nothing I can do about it now. No, I should be excited. Maybe I'll look hot, and if I don't, I'm bringing laughter to the world at nine bucks a pop.

Perhaps what vexes me most about the situation is that, because I didn't know my undergarments were to be filmed, I wore perhaps the cheapest, most unflattering underwear I own. I have a Victoria's Secret credit card that currently has a $380 balance and I wore Kmart panties I bought for my period (it happened that I, thankfully, was not menstruating that day). Muted olive green, cotton, elastic waistband, total ugliness.

Anyway, deep down I know I have ambitions in the exotic arts (stripping, peep shows, porn, the like) so I need to get used to the idea of people paying to see my scantily clad gyrations, perhaps in my absence. Casting Couch Teens

Oh, and I haven't seen this episode yet. If you do, let me know how it goes.
In other news, I finally bought a tanning package so I might enter the summer in a less-than-blinding whiteness. And I burned my ass so motherfucking bad. Really, my whole body, but the damage was concentrated on my ass, between my boobs and the back of my legs. This might have been manageable had the next day not been one of a job fair that required me to don a (scratchy, stiff, unbreathable) suit.

To top off my ridiculous existence, I was leaving work on Friday when, at the exact moment I stepped into the elevator, my keys fell off a lanyard I keep them on and shot directly down the elevator shaft. I don't know how far down they could've fallen, given that I was in the basement, but I didn't hear them hit the ground. Unless they landed in a soft pile of rat feces. Anyway, I got them back